


We look for the magic

by raikaya (rqyh)



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Also the sexual content isn't that much don't worry, Also!! The end notes contains an update about the future of my writing, Getting Back Together, I read somewhere on Twitter that long tags are annoying so I'm placing in just the essentials, Inspired by Crying Over You by HONNE, Kindly read that if you want to know the bizzz, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No more than three lines, Plot is more like Ex by Callalily, Sexual Content, briwoonweek20, day 7: ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqyh/pseuds/raikaya
Summary: A recalling of one break-up, two proposals, and a rooftop filled with fairy lights.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Yoon Dowoon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	We look for the magic

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for the fic:[ this photoshoot ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4UsAj-U0IQ&;t=3m4s)
> 
> Song links: [Crying Over You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdJP11JwLos>) // [Ex](https://open.spotify.com/album/0qny2u4DXtiOu7ENsopaaA)

It’s an odd feeling, being entranced. By something that has complete control over your attention, your eyes, your gaze. It’s an odd feeling to find yourself staring into one thing and one thing only, and not wanting to look away, or glance away, and run before it all comes crashing down in the end. It’s an odd feeling to know that some kind of force or spell has taken over your heart and made it do the most impossible things just by whispering to it, alone. And it’s an even more odd feeling to be entranced, and to know that you're entranced, and to know that you're venturing into a territory from which you can never go back—and yet not be wanting to do anything to stop it.

That was how it was like when Dowoon pulled Younghyun down to kiss him in the middle of the rooftop of his apartment. The night sky a blur above them. The busy sounds of the city murmurs below them. And nothing but an entranced feeling surrounding itself among the two of them, something like a white, shimmery, and wind-like veil constantly flying around them, as if keeping watch or keeping them protected.

Younghyun's lips were ice-cold against his, and Dowoon imagines his cheeks and fingers to be the same, as the breaths of the night sky are always so harsh on a Winter day like this. But he finds them to begin to warm up as Dowoon kisses him further, finds the inside of his mouth to be hot, like a furnace, and the arms that slide their way around his torso leave trails of fire from where they barely touched skin.

When Younghyun moves to pull away, Dowoon pulls him back down by the shirt to crash his lips into his all over again. When Younghyun’s fingers barely graze across the skin on his back, Dowoon lets out a small gasp, creating a gap. And when Younghyun finally pulls away successfully, Dowoon sends him chasing kisses along his way, not wanting for this to end, just yet.

He finds himself staring right into those beautiful, brown eyes which he loves so much, finds himself getting more and more entranced by them, feeling the spell already finds its way to every corner of his body, and not caring one bit.

Dowoon buries his chin into Younghyun's chest, staring and looking up at him as he does so. He doesn't really want to let go of those eyes tonight; at least, not this quickly.

“Do you remember when you proposed to me,” Dowoon starts, words coming out in barely a whisper, “right here on this rooftop?”

Younghyun tilts his head just a little, not breaking their gaze for one second.

“‘Course I do,” he says, a ghost of a smile on his face. The Winter wind makes his hair sway slightly. “I don't think I’ll ever forget that day.”

A smile crawls its way up to Dowoon’s face. 

“Remember what I said when you asked me to marry you?” Dowoon asks, burying his face into Younghyun's chest further.

Laughter cracks Younghyun’s face open. 

“Yeah.” Younghyun chuckles. “You said—

“‘Hyung, I came back to break up with you.’”

Dowoon keeps that smile on his face as he stares up at the man he fell so deeply in love with, at the man whom his heart had always been looking at since the beginning, at the man whose heart was so easy to break, whose heart wasn't as easy to be stolen.

“And I broke up with you,” Dowoon says, “on the day you proposed to me, on the day I came back.”

“Yeah,” Younghyun says with a smile. “You did.”

Dowoon gives him another smile back before burying his face into his chest fully, feeling and hearing his heartbeat at the same time. Younghyun’s chest is warm, as is the heart behind it, and Dowoon finds himself wrapping his arms around the man until he himself can no longer find any room to breathe.

It is at this moment that Dowoon recalls a Winter night from so many months ago. Recalls it again, as his mind always goes back to it for some reason, even when it isn't relevant. The night when Younghyun proposed. The night when Dowoon came back. And the night when Dowoon left him and thought he left him for good.

He doesn't remember what kind of expression Younghyun first made the moment he spoke his first words of the night—wasn't able to see it, as his eyes were following the lines that the tiled floors created. There had been a brief pause before Younghyun responded, and his voice had been soft, like a whisper.

“... What…?” 

The sound of his voice sent a line of pain slashing across Dowoon’s chest, but he managed to let out a tired sigh and turned to look down at Younghyun, arms crossed.

“It’s just too much, hyung,” Dowoon said. “All the waiting, all the delays, the distance. It’s too much, hyung, and we’re too far away.”

“But… no… this is… Dowoon—”

“We can't keep going like this, hyung. We can't keep trying to keep this up for longer than it already has and trying to salvage something that was meant to break in the first place—”

“Dowoon, how could you say that?” Younghyun asked, the hurt in his voice so heavily concentrated. He stood up slowly, and Dowoon kept his gaze on his eyes as he did so. “How could you—to say that we would—to say we were meant to—”

“It’s the truth, hyung,” Dowoon said, looking in front of him now. “This was never going to last, and you know it. Not when we’re always so far apart from each other. So, please. Don't make this any harder, and let’s just b—”

Younghyun had crashed his lips into Dowoon’s before he could say it, something dropping to the ground next to them with a _thud_. Dowoon felt Younghyun’s arms slide their way around his torso, but he kept himself static, unmoving, eyes wide open as Younghyun kept his closed.

And when Younghyun pulled away Dowoon felt nothing when he saw those brown eyes. Those brown eyes he loved so much. He still loved them, you know. But he had sealed his heart so deep away that he wasn't able to feel the way it beat for the one person it had vowed itself to, for better and for worse.

“Hyung,” Dowoon repeated, “let’s br—”

And Younghyun kissed him again. And again. And again. For every time Dowoon tried to say it. For every time the words started to leave his mouth. Each time the kisses would get sloppier, more desperate, and the grip on his torso would tighten. At one point, Dowoon felt rain dropping and dripping onto his cheeks and when Younghyun pulled away for one last time, he felt his salty lips trembling.

Seeing those tears streaming on his face made Dowoon pause for a moment. The key to his heart unlocking just a little. But his mind was already set on this. And his mind had always been the stronger one.

“Hyung, let’s bre—”

“Can’t you at least give this a second chance?” Younghyun asked, pleading, the furrow in his eyebrows so deeply knitted into each other. “Can’t you at least try to start things over? Try to do it all over again, but better? Better than before?”

“It would just be a waste of time.” Dowoon shook his head. “It’s all just going to end up the same way, anyway—”

“But we could try! We don't have to end things so suddenly—”

“It’s better to end things now than later—”

“But what about all the other stuff we've gone through? We were able to pull through that; we can pull through this—”

“We were always together, then. We were always by each other, but now we’re only drifting apart—”

“Dowoon, I _love_ you.”

Dowoon paused. Again. Looked up to see Younghyun’s entire face flooding with tears, with rivers, with rain. Desperation in his eyes. Pleading with them. Looking like he’d want nothing more than for Dowoon to say it back, like he always did.

Younghyun cupped Dowoon’s face with both hands, pressed their foreheads together, did as he always did.

“I love you, Dowoon, _please_ , I love you,” Younghyun whispered, the words falling apart, the words stumbling and tripping and curling in on themselves. “You can't just leave me like this. You can't just throw away every single thing we've been through. Please. Please, don't do it. Please.”

“Hyung, we’ve got to brea—”

“ _Please_ !” Younghyun pleaded, unwilling, not wanting, for anything, anything but that. “I’ll do anything. I’ll follow you there. I’ll drop everything and be with you there. We’ll be together. _Please_ , we’ll be together.”

But Dowoon shook his head, not bothering with explaining why he can't let him do that.

“Please…” Younghyun sobbed, the words almost incomprehensible. “Don't leave me. I love you. You're everything to me. I love you. I love you, damn it, I love you and I have always loved you and I’ll keep loving you until the day I die.”

“I love you, too,” Dowoon said, knowing no other words would make Younghyun listen right now, “but love isn't enough. It was never enough. And we have to end this. We have to. If we want to have days where neither of us are crying like this. If we want days where you won't cry harder than you are now.

“Hyung… let’s break up.”

Younghyun kept crying as he said it. Kept sobbing and wailing and whimpering and every single sound wounded Dowoon. Scratched and slashed at his heart with a dull, dull knife. It was why he was able to break up with him, really. The knife had cut his heart so much he ended up with nothing left.

At one point, Younghyun had spoken again. At one point, he stopped sobbing and only let silent tears drip down his face. At one point, something similar to a smile had appeared on his face.

“At least, stay with me for the night,” he said. “At least, let me give you a proper goodbye.”

And Dowoon agreed to it, because at least then he was assured that Younghyun finally accepted he was leaving. For the best. For good.

He let him kiss him senseless until there was nothing but fog covering up the windows and the walls and his eyes. He let him set the room on fire as they went on it over and over again, until desperation was their only driving force, until they drowned themselves so deep in each other that they became their only way to breathe. He let himself let out all the moans and gasps and whimpers his lips could muster, let himself get sucked into nothing but the feeling of the moment, the desire and want and the _need, need, need_ to be made love to, hands desperately intertwined with each other as there was nothing else to hold onto, and to feel that beautiful, beautiful climax to send him up high into the clouds until eventually, he would be gently laid back onto the ground. 

And then he would turn around. And it would be moans, and moans, and moans all over again.

The next morning, Dowoon was already gone. 

He didn't know how it was like for Younghyun. To wake up to see the bed next to him empty, like it usually was, but for some reason emptier than usual. To see emptiness and feel emptiness and walk the world as if he were invisible, transparent, the sun’s light passing through him like it could never reach him no matter how much it tried. How empty it was. How painful it was. How every step he took felt like gravity was trying to keep him rooted to the ground desperately, because it needed the effort to not make him lose hold of everything and start floating up until it reached the sky above him.

But like he said, Dowoon didn’t know. He only knew the whiteness of the clouds that passed by the airplane window, and the soft hums of a song with lyrics in a language he couldn't understand, and the feeling of his left earphone digging into his ear as he leaned against the wall of the plane, just watching, watching, and watching. Everything passing by in front of him, though the view looked exactly the same. The sun somewhere nearer him but nowhere to be found. The clouds. And the clouds. And the clouds.

Dowoon continued his life as usual, finding that things had become a lot easier. Now that there were no “good mornings” he had to wait up during the night for, he was able to crash down on his bed and sleep much earlier. Now that he wasn't obliged to answer every single seven-second call because of how rare they were, he was able to focus on work and finish all the projects his company set him to do, as he was considered the best at it. Now that he wasn't bound to somebody whose voice he could never decipher because of the crackle of the connection, he could accept all the invitations to the bars given to him by his coworkers, though he still refused them because he wasn't much of a drinker. Now that there wasn't anything to expect at home, to wait at home, to wait up for at home, he was able to stay at work over-overtime, even when he was left all alone. 

It wasn't difficult to adjust to that lifestyle, because it wasn't as if Dowoon did much in the first place. He never really did anything recreational, or fun, or things that made him happy. That was all him. The one who loved to take pictures at amusement parks. The one who loved to send letters even when e-mails were so much more convenient. The one who would greet him with the widest smile on his face, even when it was blurry, even when it lasted for only seven seconds. He was the one who loved to go out and have fun and make friends. Dowoon just loved work. Or was more used to doing just work. So, really, it wasn't that difficult.

It didn't feel odd, to live his days knowing the lover he’d been with for ten years was no longer there, as much “there” as he could be when he was kilometers away. It didn't feel strange to have any missed calls, or no unread texts, or no video calls he was too busy to accept. It didn't feel weird to sleep in early, as early as he could when he worked over-overtime, and it didn't feel unusual to not have anything to expect when he came home. No packages, no letters. No tickets he needed to buy to get home. 

But one day, Dowoon had found himself staring into his mirror, a few minutes before he had to get to work. He found himself looking at his reflection, staring at his black hair, at his pale face, at his eyes. Stared blankly at the way they looked back at him. Brown, white, and healthy. His complexion was perfect. His hair was well-kept. And his mirror had no stains on it.

And for some reason, to him, that. That. Was odd.

So, Dowoon took his jacket and his passport and went to the nearest airplane terminal to book a flight ten hours long to bring him back to where he once was, not answering any of the urgent calls sent to his phone. 

He landed ten hours later, not knowing what he was doing, or where he should be going, or why he was even here. He didn't have much on him. He didn't even have a plan. It was like his body was the one making his decisions, neither his mind nor his heart taking the reins tonight.

But the sky was dark when he arrived. And all the familiar paths he knew felt like the wrong way to go. And when he thought about it, he always was the kind of person to go out even when he didn't need to. A drinker, unlike Dowoon.

So, Dowoon decided to go in the one place he always told him he would never accompany him to. Perhaps this time, he'd be able to.

The club was noisy, and booming, and stupidly sweatingly hot. There were lights flashing blue, yellow, and purple, and there were much too many people. The world was a blur to him, all passing lights, and hallucinations, and smokey silhouettes that left photos in the air before immediately cutting to the next. 

But he knew he was there. He didn't know how, but he just knew. 

And he was. Right there. And he was still as he always knew him to be.

Eyes looking up. Eyes staring across the room. Eyes stopping for a moment. Eyes unblinking, blinking, blinking.

Then, footsteps stomping across the room. Then, footsteps not stopping for even a moment. Then, eyes unblinking, looking, determined, set, on there, right there, on only that.

And then two hands cupping another’s cheeks and two eyes closing completely shut and two pairs of lips crashing into each other, sloppy, messy, and unwarranted.

Dowoon had no thoughts in his mind back then. No emotions in his heart. No control over his body. 

He pulled away. And stared at two, open, unblinking brown eyes. Beautiful, beautiful brown eyes. Eyes he was in love with. Eyes he knew he had to be.

No hands around his torso. No warmth behind the chest pressed onto his. Lips pressed into a thin line. 

Dowoon kissed them again with nothing in his heart.

At one point, Dowoon felt his hands being pulled down from where they cupped those cheeks and felt him pull him away from the bar and away from the club, even as he kept kissing him and leaving him kisses and giving him more of it. He kept kissing him in the taxi, kept kissing him up the stairs, kept kissing him as he unlocked the door, kept kissing him as he lay down on the bed, kept kissing him as he removed his jacket and everything underneath it.

He only stopped kissing him when his face was nowhere his lips could reach, and only stopped kissing him when his lips became more focused on letting sounds slip out of them, reaching his ears and becoming his music of the night. That night was supposed to be a cold one, but heat was all that defined him that moment. And when he looked down to see eyes not looking back, he didn't mind it. Heat was all that defined him. At that moment.

He didn't kiss him like he usually would when they both reached the clouds that night. The last time they did it, he had kissed him until he fell asleep and Dowoon left as soon as he did. When the both of them calmed down this night, he had left the bedroom to go to the bathroom and disappear behind the door. Dowoon stayed laying and staring at the wood as the cold of the night started kissing his skin. Eventually, he grabbed the blanket on the floor and pulled it over himself, leaving enough room for another to take the space next to him. Eventually, he fell asleep.

The next day, Younghyun was gone. Or at least by the sound of it, was in the kitchen. Dowoon wasn't sure if he slept next to him that night, since he couldn't recall the exact placement of the blanket to know if it had been moved or not. But all his clothes were still on the floor, while Younghyun’s were in a bin next to the bed, so Dowoon assumed he didn't. 

He put on his clothes quietly and left Younghyun’s bedroom without checking on his hair. His apartment was just as he had remembered it, all white walls and wooden floors and everything organized in Younghyun’s usual disorganized manner. The only thing that had changed was that there were no longer photos of him lining the walls or standing in picture frames on the shelves. Which, really, meant there were no decorations in the apartment at all.

Dowoon spotted Younghyun cooking something in the kitchen. Spotted him with his back to him, standing in front of the stove. His hair looked wet. He was wearing a new shirt and pair of shorts and an apron. And the table had one plate on it.

Dowoon turned away from him and left his apartment with no words leaving his mouth.

That night, Dowoon went to the exact same club again and found Younghyun in the exact same place and so kissed him in the exact same place as yesterday. And the next day was exactly the same. And the next night was exactly the same as well.

This went on for a few weeks. Or maybe many. Dowoon wasn't sure because he didn't keep track of his days. But they did feel long enough, and passed by quick enough that Dowoon figured it probably didn't matter. His aunt didn't ask him any questions, so he didn't bother to explain.

For every day that passed since then, Dowoon did the same thing: wait for night to come, go into that club, find Younghyun, kiss him on the lips, sleep with him, wake up the next day, and leave without a single word uttered between the two of them. It was like they never knew each other from before then, like they weren't friends since high school, like it wasn't Younghyun who asked him out during his graduation, like it wasn't Dowoon who almost knocked him down by jumping him and screaming yes.

Like they didn't swear on their pinkies to make sure to get into the same college, like they didn't fill up all their free time to hang out with each other because college was just so busy, like they didn't used to visit each other at their part-time jobs because they were both such workaholics who sometimes forgot to take care of themselves.

Like Dowoon didn't almost beat up a guy for calling Younghyun a homophobic slur, like Younghyun didn't fail a class to help Dowoon grieve for his grandmother, like Dowoon didn't whisper all those words when Younghyun told him he hated how he looked, like Younghyun didn't almost cry himself blind when Dowoon wouldn't wake up for days.

Like they didn't promise to love each other until the end of the world. Like they didn't give each other the moon and the stars and everything in the galaxy just for a glimpse of a smile on their face. Like they didn't promise to make things work when Dowoon was set to go abroad when he got promoted. Like they didn't at least try to, in the beginning. 

It was as if they became strangers again, after knowing each other for ten years. Strangers who didn't know each other's name, just knew they were a good fuck, and couldn't care less what happened to them in the morning.

Dowoon didn't mind, though. Somehow, he didn't mind. He wasn't sure if he liked it, but he was sure he didn't mind. And there wasn't a single night that Younghyun wasn't there, so Dowoon took care not to not be there, either.

At one point, Dowoon had woken up in the middle of the night because of a bad dream. He didn't recall exactly what the dream was, or what part of it made it bad, but it woke him up, and now he was awake, and he was already sitting up from the bed when he felt a presence next to him.

It was Younghyun. Lying down next to him. With his back to Dowoon's face after he left to go to the bathroom a few hours before. His hair looked messy. His breathing was steady. And he was there. He was right there.

Dowoon wasn't sure if he had always been sleeping next to him for the weeks they had slept with each other, since it was only now that Dowoon had woken up first. It could even have been that this was the only time Younghyun decided to do it, for whatever reason it may be. And it could even have been that the next nights, he would never do it again.

But Dowoon found himself reaching over to just dip his fingers in the water of Younghyun's hair, only scratching the surface and leaving tiny ripples. There wasn't a smile on his face, nor an achy feeling in his chest, but his body quite liked the feeling of Younghyun’s hair between his fingertips. He didn't know where his mind or heart went.

When he woke up again the next morning, Younghyun was no longer beside him. He put on his clothes, went in the living room, and stared at Younghyun's back in the kitchen. 

And kept staring. And staring. And staring.

Until he turned away from the door and walked to the kitchen counter, leaning his elbows on the wood.

The moment Younghyun turned around he had immediately let out a yelp and almost dropped the plate of food in his hands, had Dowoon not reached out and steadied it, keeping it centered on the ceramic. Slowly, Dowoon took the plate from Younghyun's hand and placed it on the kitchen counter, leaving it at a distance where his elbows wouldn't accidentally topple it over.

Younghyun stared at Dowoon for a few moments, looking like a thousand thoughts were running in his mind. Dowoon's mind on the other hand was empty, and all he was aware of was the look on Younghyun's face, right then, right there.

Then, Younghyun spoke his first words.

“Why haven't you left yet?” he asked.

Dowoon tilted his head a bit, before answering.

“No reason,” he said.

“Don't you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really.”

“Don't you have work?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Probably.”

They stared at each other for a few more moments. 

Then, Younghyun grabbed a plate from the kitchen rack, and then a pair of utensils, and then his own plate from the kitchen counter, and then passed Dowoon without another word.

And Dowoon followed him to the dining table, making sure to wait for him to start eating before Dowoon did, as well.

It was the first time Dowoon spent the entire day in Younghyun’s apartment, even before the two of them broke up. Back then, they were both so busy with school, then work, that spending an entire day with each other was only just a fantasy, much less each other’s apartment. 

But that day Dowoon had the luxury to do the latter, though Younghyun wasn't there for majority of it, just like old times. He had work, and actually went to work, unlike Dowoon, who was pretty sure he had already been fired at this point. But he didn't mind it. He was already starting to get bored with his job, anyway. He wondered whatever made him endure it in the first place.

He spent the entire day just watching TV or cleaning up some things that Dowoon was sure to be clutter and not something importantly misplaced. He fixed Younghyun's bed and made it a lot more presentable, as compared to how it was left after being excessively exhausted for weeks now. He lined up the books on Younghyun's shelf (he seemed to have bought some new ones, after they broke up), arranged the bath supplies in an orderly fashion, and swept up the floor to remove all that city dust. 

He found that there wasn't much to do, as the entire apartment was already neat and clean. The only thing he steered clear from were the things Younghyun probably considered more to be art than a mess. He never really liked it when Dowoon messed up his messy stuff. They were in an order that he memorized, he would always say. Or used to say. Dowoon wasn't sure if he was still the same person who would say the same things Dowoon remembered of him. He wondered how much he changed.

With no more TV shows that sparked his interest and no more things to clean, Dowoon decided to just stay on Younghyun's bed. Wait for when he came back. He wasn't sure what time he went off work, but if his recent routine was any indication, he would probably be home during sundown. And it was already sundown. 

Dowoon leaned his head on Younghyun’s headboard, staring up at the white ceiling above him. Only a single light bulb had been tasked to light up the entire room, already more than enough. The sun was out there, lighting up the entire world, but at least this little guy had enough power to light up this little space of his. The sun’s light, despite being so much stronger, would probably never reach this place. He wondered if that meant anything.

Dowoon was about to get up to go to the bathroom when his elbow accidentally hit the drawer next to the bed and he heard something topple over inside with a _thud_. 

Wanting to see if he accidentally broke anything, Dowoon opened the drawer and checked to see what was inside.

What was inside. Was a box. A black box. A small box you could fit in the center of your palm. A small box you opened when you got down on one knee. A small box meant to hold a small ring. The kind of ring that you would give someone. When you asked them to marry you.

Dowoon had found himself staring as he held the box in his hand. It was the same one Younghyun presented him with, offered him, months ago. On the night he broke up with him. On the night he left him. Thought he left him. For good.

He didn't know why, but he opened the box. Curious to see if there was still anything in it. If Younghyun had thrown it away, and kept the box for convenience. If Younghyun had already placed something else in it, replaced what used to be there.

But what used to be there was still there. Sitting neatly at the center of the box. Staring up at him in its silver glory. Looking polished and shiny and glimmery. As if moonlight had struck it, just like it had back then.

Dowoon felt his fingers move—

“What are you doing?”

Dowoon looked up to see Younghyun standing by the door, in his work clothes, holding an office bag slung across his shoulder. And it was at this moment that Dowoon realized what exactly he was doing, what exactly he was holding, and what exactly that box meant for Younghyun.

What exactly he did to him.

Dowoon didn't answer him and just closed the box and put it back in its drawer, getting up from the bed. He walked across the room, towards Younghyun, and made a move so that he could pass through the door, leave the apartment, close the door, and leave him be.

But an arm shot in front of him before he could pass through anything.

Dowoon stopped in his tracks, surprised to see an arm blocking his way, and looked up to see eyes looking down on him, eyes that were brown, and slanted, and beautiful. 

Younghyun was looking at him in a way that was unreadable. Staring right into his eyes. Staring right at him. And Dowoon didn't know what else to do except stare back. Wondering. Thinking. Why he was looking at him like that.

Then, Younghyun lowered his arm and placed his thumb on Dowoon’s chin, his folded index finger underneath it, and guided him to look up at him with his head slightly tilted, Dowoon following the path he created.

And slowly, Younghyun tilted his head down so it could match Dowoon’s. And slowly, Younghyun’s eyes started to close for the first time. And slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips onto Dowoon’s, his vision slowly closing to black as he accepted the kiss with everything he could, with everything he had.

For the first time since they started sleeping with each other again, Younghyun kissed him, instead of the other way around.

That night felt different from the others, a different fog, a different heat, a different pace in things. Dowoon had found himself letting out longer and louder moans and found himself grabbing onto Younghyun like his life depended on it. Found himself getting more desperate and showing it. Found himself begging for more and more and more even though his lips never uttered a single pleading, except for the whimpers that left it. Found himself reaching out to Younghyun with desperate eyes, found himself wishing that night could last forever.

And maybe it was because Younghyun kissed him first. Or maybe it was the trails of kisses that Younghyun left on his neck to mark him the next day. Or maybe the sex had just gotten better, for one reason or another. Or maybe it was because Younghyun kept his eyes on Dowoon the entire time.

Whatever the reason, that night was so much better than the others. Whatever the reason, that night he found himself actually, genuinely liking it, no clouds over his head. Whatever the reason, Dowoon found himself almost smiling, though he didn't dare let himself. Because his lips were focused solely on catching the breath that left him. Because he couldn't let himself do anything but keep them in a straight line.

Whatever the case, at the end of it, when the both of them were laid gently down on the mattress, Younghyun’s arms caging either side of Dowoon, and Dowoon’s arms linked around Younghyun's neck, and the blanket hanging off Younghyun's shoulders, Younghyun kept his eyes on Dowoon's, not looking anywhere else. For the first time in a while, while, while. 

Dowoon wasn't sure what he wanted in that moment, when Younghyun kept his eyes on Dowoon’s without any sign of leaving him. Another kiss. A few words. He wasn't sure if either of those were what he wanted.

In the end, it didn't matter. Because Dowoon got both.

Lips that leaned in to kiss him for the second time that night.

Lips that whispered, “It’s too dark out. You should stay.”

So, he did. For days and days and days. Dowoon stayed at Younghyun’s apartment in the day, waited for him to come home at sundown, and when it was sundown, Younghyun would come home to see Dowoon sitting down on his bed, looking out the window, and turning to look at him once he realized he was there.

He gave him the wi-fi password so he didn't have to get bored with watching the same shows over and over again. He let him have control over the kitchen in the afternoon so he could cook himself up a brunch, a lunch, and/or linner. Let him use his bathroom, and reread his books, and clean up any stray dust on the floor, as Dowoon always was the cleaner one. 

And sometimes when Younghyun came home, there would already be something cooked up for him, because Dowoon knew he was too tired to do more than fry up an egg and mix it with some leftover kimchi and rice, or heat up a ramyeon pack. Some nights, they slept with each other. Other nights, they just slept next to each other, backs facing each other, Younghyun always falling asleep before Dowoon did. Whenever that happened, Dowoon would always sit up and dip his fingers in the water of his hair, feeling the ripples surround his skin. Then, he'd pull away and turn away and wrap the blanket around his shoulders, falling asleep right after.

In the morning or afternoon when Dowoon was sure that Younghyun wouldn't come home yet, he would open the drawer next to the bed and open the black box inside it to look at the ring inside. Run a finger down the silverness of it. Observe it, as if it were a contraption that might do a magic trick if Dowoon looked at it right.

The ring was perfect, really. Perfect as that night should have been. Younghyun had decorated the entire rooftop with fairy lights lining the walls and the plastic of the transparent umbrella he held over him. The same one that had once covered the both of them when rain had poured down. The same one where they had shared their first kiss.

And when Younghyun went down on one knee Dowoon had to swallow his whole heart to keep it down, down, down, where his hands would never reach it, so that he wouldn't be tempted to take it out and make a decision that would only bring more sadness down the road. It had come to the point where it felt like the both of them were trying to hold onto air as they both kept plummeting down, pretending as if they were still rooted to the ground. Trying to keep smiles on their faces, when tears were threatening to spill from their eyes, trying to make come true a wish whose price was just too much for their pockets. It had been too difficult, too exhausting, too tiring and too taxing, that Dowoon couldn't bear to hold on any longer, letting go feeling like freedom.

The happiness of before, the euphoria of what once was was just a memory to him, so long gone that it felt more like a legend, a myth, passed down by generations and which people of his age believe to just be stories. It felt unreal, untrue, and with how things had been going, Dowoon believed it could never go back to how it once was.

That was why he did it. Ended it, broke it off. Because holding on was too painful. Because holding on was too difficult. Because the memory of those easygoing days served as torture devices that only told Dowoon just how different the recent ones were. He did it to let go of the pain. He did it to get rid of the burden.

But now that he was sitting on top of Younghyun's bed, with nothing but bare walls decorating the room, and looking down at the perfect ring sitting neatly at the center of its box, he wondered how exactly he thought the pain would be healed, how exactly the burden would be lifted, when all his life his reliever had been his lover. 

He wondered how he would ever heal, if that were the case.

Sometimes, when Dowoon looked at the ring, he would wonder if it would fit him. Fit on his left ring finger perfectly and sit there prettily if Dowoon had only said yes. Knowing Younghyun, he must've had his finger measured while he was sleeping. He was always the perfectionist when it came to these things. The gem that the ring held in its palm was even his birthstone.

But he wouldn't dare try to wear the ring. The act was too much, even for someone like him. It would be a slap to the face, a laugh at one’s misfortune, and an insult to everything he had gone through.

And so, Dowoon would put the box right back in its drawer, careful to not check on it again, at least until the next day.

And then one day, Younghyun had gone home holding a big box of what looked to be chocolates and sweets and a bunch of bread and pastries that even Dowoon had never seen before. He had gone over from where he just finished cooking dinner and sat on a chair, curious as to why Younghyun brought home such a thing.

“The project that our department proposed a few months ago was a bigger success than we expected,” Younghyun explained, going over to untie the ribbons. “We had a party to celebrate and our boss gave everyone these baskets. Though two-thirds of these actually belong to two of my coworkers; they both have a family history of diabetes so they just gave these to me.”

Dowoon hummed, leaning on the dining table with his arms. “You planning on rationing that for the entire month?”

“No. I’m gonna give three-fourths of these to the neighbors. The kid next-door would love these.”

Dowoon hummed again, watching as Younghyun took out a chocolate wafer bar pack and read over its contents. He was just about to get up and ready the table when Younghyun took out a bar and handed it over to Dowoon.

Dowoon blinked at it for a few seconds, a bit surprised. But Younghyun just nudged it in Dowoon’s direction and when he didn't take it, just placed it on the table space in front of him.

“It’s your favorite flavor,” Younghyun said, not looking at him and continuing to read over the contents of the other packages, “isn't it?”

Dowoon kept his lips in a straight line. Made sure they were a straight line. Struggled to keep them in a straight line. Had to, so he did.

Dowoon unwrapped the bar and took a bite, a tiny one, then finished it.

“Yeah,” he said, “it is.”

And the small smile that appeared on Younghyun’s face then had Dowoon staring up at him until Younghyun had to ask him if that was dinner in the kitchen and he went to get it hastily. The small smile that appeared on Younghyun's face had made him struggle with putting his food in his mouth because he just couldn't get it off his mind. And the laugh that left Younghyun’s lips when he grabbed a tissue to wipe Dowoon’s face made him so flabbergasted, so mystified, so entranced by something he never thought he could see again that he almost didn't kiss Younghyun back when he leaned in.

It was joy. Happiness. Euphoria that sent Dowoon up to the clouds and made him feel like he was living the most beautiful dream his unconscious could ever muster. For the first time in a long time, Dowoon felt like everything in the world was finally going back to its rightful places, the world finally fixing itself up. Like things were starting to be okay again. That perhaps, something similar to what once was could be.

But he knew it couldn't be true. Not to someone like him. He knew it couldn't be true because it felt too artificial, too fabricated, a fantasy someone created to forget, distract, pretend as if the bad things in their life had never happened. He knew it from the countless calls sent to his phone, the numerous texts that kept popping up on his phone screen, all the emails that he marked as read but never really had been.

And he knew the exactness of it when he walked in Younghyun’s bedroom and saw him looking down at Dowoon’s unlocked phone screen, the device in his hands, eyes on the words coming up constantly on his notification panel that would've sounded weeks ago, had Dowoon not put his phone on mute.

It was silent the entire while, as Dowoon stared unmoving at how Younghyun kept his eyes on Dowoon’s phone. 

And then, Younghyun looked at Dowoon. And then Younghyun spoke. 

“All your friends and family are looking for you,” he said. “Why does it sound like they don't know where you are?”

Dowoon didn't speak. Younghyun did.

“Didn't you tell them you were back in Seoul? Haven't you told them you were staying with me this entire time?”

Dowoon didn't speak. Younghyun did.

“And what about your company? Did you just leave your job when you were the literal head of your department? Did you leave your coworkers to fend for themselves when your project was due months ago?”

Dowoon didn't speak. Younghyun did.

“You haven't paid rent in months. All your things are due to the dumpster today. Didn't you bring anything with you when you came back here? Didn't you think to tell anyone this?”

Dowoon didn't speak. Younghyun already was.

“How could you just leave everything behind you and not tell a single person around you, like it didn't matter how they felt to know you were gone for three months and didn't know where you were? Like it’s a-fucking-okay to just disappear and make your friends, your _family_ , think you got kidnapped, or murdered, and not tell them you are literally in the same city as they are?

“Have you no fucking concern over the people around you? Have you no fucking concern over the effect you have over the people who care about you, who love you, who would love you until the day they die but you act as if it’s just so easy to throw that fucking love away and do whatever the fuck you want and not give a shit over how broken you're making everyone around you feel.

“Are you so inside your own head that you can pull some bullshit like this? Come back to Korea, fuck your ex-boyfriend, and not tell one fucking soul where you are? Create fucking chaos around you and not give a single care to the world? How insensitive could you be? How heartless could you be? How fucking heartless are you?”

Dowoon didn't speak. Younghyun—

“ _ANSWER ME_!”

Dowoon didn't. Younghyun stared at him. His phone crushed in his hands. Every inch of him shaking. Staring at him in disbelief. 

“Why,” Younghyun started, “the fuck are you even here. Why the fuck did you even come back.”

Dowoon wondered, too. Wondered why he came back. To get back with Younghyun? To hope against hope that they could still be together? To beg on his knees and ask for him back? To plead for it? Sob for it? Cry for it just as he did back then? To apologize for all that he'd done and tell him he'd do anything—anything—for his forgiveness?

No. That wasn't it. That wasn't it at all.

It was silent. Until it wasn't. 

“Go,” Younghyun said.

Dowoon moved—

“I SAID _GO_!” Younghyun yelled, and Dowoon was already out the door.

It was nighttime when Dowoon went out of the building, with nothing on him except himself. The breaths of the night were sending him fleeting kisses across his cheeks. Or maybe scratching him because they, too, were angry. Either way, it was cold, and Dowoon wrapped his jacket around himself as he let his feet take him wherever it wanted to.

He knew he couldn't go back to his aunt’s. Though the old woman actually couldn't care less where he was or what he was doing, she was still his mother’s sister and if he went back there, he was sure he would get a beating. 

So, he went wherever he laid his eyes on. Saw a corner and turned. Spotted a path and went. Saw a bridge and stepped. Spotted a cat and followed.

Until he found himself among trees and grass and soil and flowers, and swings and seesaws and sand boxes and slides, and benches and vending machines and lamp posts, until he found himself all by himself. 

He sat down on one of the benches and closed his eyes, feeling the Spring wind pass him by. Heard the slight rustle of the leaves and something like that cat jumping over a branch and the revving of a car engine a few meters away. Calming, in a way. Peaceful, in every.

It’s a bit odd, to be alone, when before you’d been surrounded with so many people that it almost felt like you never would be. To find yourself with no one but yourself in a world full of billions and more. To think that one could be so alone, and so lonely, and yet find not a single drop of melancholy in their hearts, as if they didn't mind it, as if they didn't have a heart.

How heartless was he?

Heartless enough to swallow his heart whole and bury it deep, deep below it so that he'd never be able to reach for it even if he wanted. Heartless enough to keep saying the one thing he never wanted him to say even as he kept kissing him to prevent it. Heartless enough to let him have a sliver of hope that maybe one more night with each other could bring more days together in the future. Heartless enough to leave, and come back.

Dowoon wanted to laugh. Laugh and giggle and chuckle and guffaw at everything he had ever done until now. Laugh at his stupidity. Giggle at his patheticness. Chuckle at his bad decisions. Guffaw at his every being. Because every single part of him and this was a joke.

Instead he discovered rain. Instead he looked up to the sky.

Blinked over and over and over again so they wouldn't fall down. Wiped furiously with his sleeve so they could never come out. Straightened his face to create a drought. Straightened his lips before they could form a frown.

He can't cry now. He can't cry ever. He shouldn't be crying. Never, not ever. Tears are not what should define him in this moment, tears are not something that he should be having at any time, he shouldn't be crying, he can't be crying, he shouldn't cry, he can't cry, he's not, he’s not, he’s not allowed to.

“Why aren't you allowed to?”

Dowoon looked down. To see brown eyes staring at him. To see a jacket hanging off his elbow. To see an umbrella hanging off his wrist.

A clear, transparent umbrella.

Dowoon said, “What are you doing here?”

Younghyun started walking. “You didn't answer my question.”

Dowoon said, “I thought you wanted me gone.”

Younghyun reached him. “You still aren't answering me.”

Dowoon looked up at him. He was standing close, though still with a considerable amount of space between them. He looked at the jacket on his arm. Then the umbrella on his wrist. Then, he looked back up.

“Why aren't you allowed to cry?” Younghyun asked again. “Wasn't it you who told me that crying wasn't a bad thing? Wasn't it you who told me that crying is good for you?”

Dowoon didn't answer. Younghyun spoke again.

“If you aren't going to answer that, then let me ask you a different question.” 

Younghyun crouched down in front of Dowoon, making him look up, and the latter look down.

“Why,” he asked, “did you come back?”

To get back together?

To hope they could still be together?

To beg? To plead? 

No. No, that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. 

It was—

“Because,” Dowoon said, “I wanted you to be mad at me.

“I wanted you to shout at me, to yell at me, to scream at me to go away. I wanted you to push me, punch me, beat me up for everything I'd done to you. I figured that if I came back and you saw me, you'd tell me to leave you alone. To never come back again. That you'd never want to see me again. That you'd wish to never have to see my face again. I wanted you to. I wanted you to hate me. Hurt me. Hurt me like I hurt you.

“Instead—” Dowoon frowned. “Instead, you let me kiss you. Instead, you let me sleep with you. Instead, you gave me food, let me stay in your apartment, let me use your TV, your wi-fi, let me clean up your stuff, let me cook in your kitchen. Took care of me. Watched over me. Kissed me good night so many times. Slept next to me for so many nights—why…”

Dowoon looked into Younghyun's eyes. Found them blurry, then blinked to make everything clearer.

“Why,” he asked, “did you do that?”

Younghyun tilted his head up a little.

“Why,” he asked, “do you think?”

And Dowoon shook his head. Over and over again. Unbelieving, not believing it for a second.

“No,” he said. “That can't be true. You can't be in love with me—you can't _still_ be in love with me—that’s _not_ true.”

“Why can't it be?” Younghyun said, quietly. “Why can't I be in love with you?”

“ _I hurt you_ !” Dowoon shouted. “I was an asshole to you, my friends, my family, and every single fucking person in my life! I broke up with you even though I knew it would break your heart, I threw every single goddamn thing we’d been through just because I got tired of holding on, I ruined everything, everything, _everything_ —you should be screaming at me to get fucking lost!

“You should be wishing I had never come back, you should be wishing I was never here, you should be wishing that we never met, you should be wishing I was gone, gone, gone—you should be yelling at me! You should be shouting at me! You shouldn't have cared less what would happen to me once I left! You should be rejoicing at the fact that I could've been—”

Dowoon cut himself off when he felt something wet dripping down his cheeks. Looked down at his hands and saw water slipping through his fingers. Saw them and hated them and wished they were never there. 

“No… this is… why...” he whispered. “Why am _I_ the one crying…? I shouldn't _be_ crying—the one who should be crying is you. You're the one who got hurt. You're the one who deserves to cry. So, why… why am I…”

He wiped at his eyes. But the tears kept slipping out. He wiped at them again. But he was fighting against the ocean.

Sobs started spilling out of his lips as tears kept slipping out of his eyes, frustrated, angry, angry with himself and everything he was. He kept wiping at them, wanted the tears to stop— _why won’t they just stop?_ Why did more tears spill out the more he moved to wipe them? _Why can't I just leave him be?_ Why wasn't the fabric of his jacket enough to dry him up? _Why am I playing the victim here?_ Why was he so _heartless_ , so _heartless_ , so _heartless_ —

Suddenly, his hands stopped wiping at his tears. And suddenly, his arms were stopped by the hands of another wrapped around each wrist. And when he looked Younghyun had his face close to his, holding him, looking at him, with slanted eyes, with brown eyes. Brown eyes so beautiful, _so_ beautiful, even then.

He felt the tears fall as Younghyun slowly leaned in. Felt the tears drip down his face as he wished for them to not be there. Felt the rain, the rivers, the ocean flood his world, wish that they were there to drown him, instead of washing him away.

“Don’t,” Dowoon whimpered, as he felt himself stop resisting. “Please, don't kiss me,” he said, as he tilted his chin at the right angle. “Don't show me that you love me,” he said, closing his eyes. “Please…

“I don't deserve it.”

The tears fell as Younghyun kissed him, drip, drip, dripping down his chin. As Dowoon lowered his hands. As Younghyun cupped his cheeks. As he kissed him and kissed him, gently, gently, gently. Lips salty. Lips tasting like the ocean.

Younghyun pulled away and Dowoon opened his eyes. Opened them to see his world a blur. Blinked just for it to get blurry again. 

Tears spilled down over Younghyun's fingers but he didn't move to wipe them away. Tears dropped down onto Dowoon’s hands but he didn't pull them away. Younghyun’s voice soft, like a whisper. 

“How could you say,” he said, “that you don't deserve this? Who are you to say what you do and don’t deserve?”

Dowoon shook his head. Tired. So tired.

“But I don't deserve anything,” Dowoon said, tears spilling, “not after what I'd done to you. Not after hurting you. Not after leaving you and leaving everyone behind. I don't deserve your kisses, I don't deserve your love, I don't deserve any of this.”

“All you had to do was say sorry,” Younghyun whispered. “That was all I needed to hear.”

“How could I?” Dowoon asked, looking straight at Younghyun’s blurry face, his blurry eyes. “When I don't even have the right to be? How could I say sorry, when I don't deserve to be forgiven for anything I've done?”

The night was cold when Younghyun pressed their foreheads together. His breath warm against his lips. His words soft, and quiet. Whispers. Whispers against his lips.

“But you already have been forgiven,” Younghyun said, “for everything you've done. I'd already forgiven you, so many months ago.

“Why did you think I even let you kiss me when you came back? Why I brought you home? Why I let you stay? Do you think that just because I still love you, that I would let you in after you broke my heart? Love isn't enough, Dowoon. Love is never enough for that. But forgiveness is.

“The day you left I was a complete wreck. I couldn't eat, I couldn't go out, and I couldn't stop crying. You left me a complete mess and you made me feel the worst I have ever felt and just the thought of you, just seeing your face on my walls hurt me so much that I wished I had never met you. Wished that we never had all those amazing times together if it meant not knowing how it would be like with all of that gone.

“But the day after you left I realized I didn't want any of that anymore. I didn't want to keep crying about you, I didn't want to keep hurting because of you, I didn't want to keep regretting everything we'd been through because that wasn't the future I wanted to have. I wanted to hate you, but I didn't. Continuing to hate you would do nothing except hurt me, too.

“Because how could I grow from the pain you gave me if I kept letting it hurt me? How could I move on from you if I kept myself holed up in my room and wishing to never see your face? How could I become better, how could I get a better life, if I stopped myself from loving anyone? How could I heal, if I didn't forgive you?”

Younghyun passed a thumb across Dowoon’s cheeks. Wiping his tears for the first time.

“And how can you ever heal,” he said, “if you don't forgive yourself?”

It’s an odd thing, to see the world in a blur, when you know that every single object around you is as clear as day. Where every blink you make clears your vision up just for a moment, until the tears in your eyes blur it up all over again.

And when Dowoon looked at Younghyun, he blinked once, to see him clear as day. With eyes that looked straight at him. With eyes whose vision hadn't been blurred in months. With eyes that look healthy, white, and brown.

When Dowoon looked out the airplane window the day he left Younghyun, he had imagined how much of a wreck he had been. Empty to see a seemingly emptier bed. Sunlight passing through transparent skin, unreaching. He thought that that must have been what Younghyun was feeling, though he himself didn't know. Thought that he must have felt like that, all those first weeks when Dowoon was gone.

But the truth was that it never was Younghyun and he was never imagining anything. The truth was that it had been Dowoon and he who felt everything. The entire time. Ever since the beginning.

He had thought that breaking it off would be the first step to no more tears. No more tears passed between them. No more tears streaming down Younghyun's face, like they had back then.

But Younghyun hadn't cried since the day after Dowoon left. And he was the one whose walls were bare, whose floors were clean, who still had a job, and who still went to clubs with nothing but a glass of water in his hands. 

And the only one whose eyes were stained with tears at this moment was Dowoon. Dowoon, who ended up crying even more than Younghyun did.

Dowoon, who couldn't forgive himself. Dowoon, who wouldn't forgive himself. Who couldn't let go of what he did and wished to be given as much hurt as he gave the world. To pay for what he did. To give back to what he had done.

But sometimes punishment isn't enough to repay for what one once did. How could one ever know if the sentence one gave to a criminal was equal to the price of the crime he commited? Justice in this world is imperfect, and at times, the punishment overpays the price.

The only thing that one can do to compensate for the crime committed and be sure that there would be no injustice in it is to let go of everything and be free of whatever had been done.

Because forgiveness doesn't balance the scales; it lifts the weight from both.

And that was what it was like when Dowoon felt his eyes become blurry all over again, eyes overflowing with tears that he didn't try to stop, heart coming back up from where he had buried it, mind giving in to what it once thought was wrong, body moving before he even knew it.

“I’m sorry,” Dowoon sobbed, tears streaming down his face, washing every hurt away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_!”

He extended his arms and reached for Younghyun, apologizing all the way. Felt the both of them topple down to the ground as more sobs left his lips. Felt Younghyun’s arms wrap around his torso, felt a pair of lips kiss him on the head, and kept apologizing all throughout it.

“I’m sorry for breaking up with you,” Dowoon sobbed, “I’m sorry for throwing everything away. I’m sorry for being an asshole, and I’m sorry for treating you like shit. I’m sorry I never told anyone that I was back, and I’m sorry for being selfish, and I’m sorry I never said sorry until now.

“I’ll be better, I’ll never do any of that ever again. I love you, I still love you, I have always loved you and I’m never gonna stop loving you until the day I die. No, I’ll keep loving you even after that. I’ll keep loving you no matter what. 

“I’m sorry for everything I did. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I'm sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dowoon felt a hand caress the top of his head as he lacked any more words than I’m sorry. Felt the smile even though he never saw it. Didn't need to see it to know it was there.

Dowoon buried his face further into Younghyun's chest, to the point that he had a bit difficulty in breathing. But he was okay with it, because he knew that in those arms, no matter the occasion, he couldn't be anything but fine.

And now Dowoon has his face buried in Younghyun’s chest, just as he did a few weeks ago, standing on the rooftop where it once was decorated with fairy lights. But tonight is a lot more beautiful than then, despite the lack of decorations. Because tonight Dowoon finds his lips curving up at Younghyun, when for so many months he only let himself keep them in a straight line. Back when he thought he didn't deserve anything more than that.

As Dowoon looks up at Younghyun now and at the smile on his face, he can't help but remember what happened here on this rooftop so long ago. The night that started it all. Wonders what would have happened if he had just said y—

Younghyun flicks him on the forehead.

“Ow!” Dowoon yelps, feeling the stinging pain on his forehead. “What was that for?”

Younghyun clicks his tongue, frowning a little at Dowoon. “You were thinking about when you broke up with me, weren't you. You get this blank look on your face whenever you do. Didn't I already tell you I’m over that? It doesn't affect me at all anymore.”

“Ugh, I can't help it, sometimes,” Dowoon groans, burying his face in Younghyun’s chest. “There's still a part of me that can't forgive myself for it. Even though I know I gotta.”

Dowoon sighs, looking up at Younghyun, who has his eyebrows scrunched up in a worried furrow. He lets a small smile appear on his face when he sees it and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Don't worry, alright?” he says after he pulls away. “I’m trying. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting there. I’m not going anywhere else.”

Younghyun sighs before kissing Dowoon on the forehead. “Good. I don't want you anywhere else.”

He wraps his arms around Dowoon tighter and Dowoon happily obliges, squeezing him as well himself.

“What are you gonna do now, though?” Younghyun asks, looking down at him. “Your friends and family finally know you weren't actually kidnapped and thank god they don't have a grudge against you for it (though your mother is certainly almost there), but what about your company? I hardly think they're gonna be as forgiving and let you back after that stunt you pulled.”

Dowoon hums non-committedly. “It was starting to get boring, anyway. You were the only one who made that stupid job tolerable and you were never even there. I’m fine with getting fired.”

“Okay… then, what about your apartment? It’s a good thing that we were able to negotiate with the landlady to not, in fact, have all your things thrown out, but she is most definitely not letting you stay there anymore. You gonna look for a new apartment?”

Dowoon hums. “No,” he says after a while. “I don't really wanna stay in that city anymore.”

Younghyun furrows his eyebrows at him. “Then, what are you gonna do?”

Dowoon smiles at him, almost grinning. “What do you think?”

Younghyun stares at him for a while, maybe a bit surprised. He takes a few minutes before responding, maybe trying to wrap his head around it.

“You're gonna stay here,” he starts, “with me?”

Dowoon smiles at him more. “If that's fine with you.”

“It… _is_ fine with me, but…” Younghyun hesitates. “How are you—”

“I’ll just find a job in the city,” Dowoon says, “one that doesn't take so much of my time that we’d be too busy. Wouldn't want work to get in the way of our relationship like it almost did.”

“But what about your dream—”

“I can still achieve it. Slowly, but surely. It doesn't have to be now. As long as I’m with you, it doesn't matter when.”

“Then, what if I’m going to be sent somewhere else?” 

This time, Younghyun's eyes are serious. 

“What if I get promoted and get sent abroad?” he asks. “Like you last time?”

Dowoon almost laughs with this one. Because the answer is the one he is the most sure of, the one the most obvious.

“Then, I’ll follow you there,” he says. “Doesn't matter where you are, or how far it is from home. If you're there, it always will be. And I don't wanna be without you. Ever. Not anymore.”

Younghyun stares at him more, lips slightly apart, almost in disbelief. Perhaps he doesn't believe it. Perhaps it doesn't seem real. But not everything is too good to be true. And this one is.

“Besides,” Dowoon continues, “I kinda have to always be with you, you know. Since we might get married sometime soon.”

At that, Younghyun widens his eyes and Dowoon laughs at that, pulling away from their hug. He takes a few steps back before taking something from his pocket.

A black box. With a silver ring inside it. The same one from so many nights ago. Which has seen this rooftop twice now.

“You never threw it away,” Dowoon says, opening it to reveal the ring inside, “so I thought that might have meant something.”

He goes down on one knee and Younghyun's eyes go the widest they've ever been, perhaps wondering what on earth is happening, perhaps wondering what the world has come to, perhaps wondering if Dowoon really is going to propose to the person who actually bought the ring in the first place.

But he's not that cheap. He's just really impatient.

“Kang Younghyun,” Dowoon starts, “will you ask me to marry you?”

And there's a pause that comes after, one where Dowoon can see the question settling deeply in Younghyun’s eyes. Processing everything that's happening. Processing what Dowoon just said.

Then, a wide grin is spreading across Younghyun's face. Then, barrels of laughter are leaving his lips. Then, he's holding onto his stomach from the ridiculousness of it. Then, he's looking at Dowoon like there could be nothing more beautiful in the world. 

“Of course, I will.”

And he did. 

And Dowoon said yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everybody! I hope you had a wonderful read. This fic here was actually written back in May 2019, so if you noticed that the writing is a bit outdated, it's because of that. 
> 
> The fic was supposed to be a story for a planned series entitled "Everyotherday6," but I scrapped that and decided to bring it to Briwoon Week instead! And reading it made me very nostalgic 😄
> 
> So! With Briwoon Week 2020 finally over, I've decided to take a looooong break from writing and social media, and just throw away all the pressures of "You're only a good creator if you make masterpieces and upload every day!" Which was a bad mindset to have, and that which I unfortunately had. 
> 
> I won't go into the details lest this be too long, but just know that this break doesn't mean I've broken up with writing - it just means that I won't pressure myself to write well anymore. Instead, I wanna be able to write for fun! And not care whether my readers think I've "lost my touch," regardless if I actually have. 
> 
> I mean - I know my writings aren't anything spectacular, but the reason why I love writing "Dowoon's Body" much more than I liked writing "Seasons" is because the former was for me and the latter wasn't. 
> 
> (Which was totally my fault when I decided to do that poll thing. I still regret not finishing Seasons, but hey - the world keeps turning.) 
> 
> So: what does that mean for my current AUs and the future of my writing? 
> 
> Well, for starters, put your expectations very low because there's a high chance that the story you've been following won't reach its end. If I've decided to discontinue a story completely, I'll label it and put it under my pseud yalina (rqyh). If not, expect veeery slow updates. 
> 
> I also won't be on social media - therefore, no real-time updates. And you might notice some sporadic activity because I'm gonna do stuff on my terms. Whether it be updating current fics, rebooting previous ones, or doing something completely new, even I wouldn't know about it! I just wanna do stuff for me. 
> 
> When it comes to Briwoon Week, though, I think it's safe to say that I'll still be organizing that. So long as people still do stuff for it, that is. Briwoon is a rarepair, and fate can be real tricky, so I guess we'll just see what happens! 
> 
> The reason why I'm doing this is because after pouring my soul into these works, I've found that I actually lost a bit of myself in the process. My writings became the basis of my self-worth, and comments dictated my self-esteem. 
> 
> I don't want to live like that anymore, so I've decided to prioritize my own happiness. And if that means sacrificing some AUs, then so be it. 
> 
> For all of you who've supported me thus far, I wanna give you a giant THANK YOU because you guys really made me feel happy to be a writer. Knowing that my stories affected people positively and gave someone a day to look forward to really gives meaning to my work - a meaning that isn't just centered around me. 
> 
> And I know my writing isn't top-notch or revolutionary, but I'm still glad I was able to write some good lines here and there. It was a fun experience, investing in these stories - and growing up with them, from a wee little eighth-grader to this messy fuck of a college freshman. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this little story of mine, and I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that you have a wonderful day. 
> 
> Ruqayyah 🦋
> 
> P.S. [carrd](https://rqyh.carrd.co/) for updates and info!!


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